Perfect
by Stronger-Than-Fear
Summary: "May I help you?" / "Going to start after eighteen years? A little late, don't you think?" - Zach and Townsend, set during UWS. Inspired by Simple Plan's song, "Perfect". One-shot.


**Well, I had half of this hidden in the depths of my computer files, and I'm feeling totally in the writing mood, so I finished it and published it. So, I hope you like it!**

**A few notes: this isn't necessarily compliant with my other stories, but whatever you want to think- go ahead. Also, I'm aware that several Zach/Townsend fics are out there about after the big reveal, but oh well. Here's another.**

**This was inspired by the song "Perfect" by Simple Plan. The song doesn't really relate, but the lyrics I liked are below.**

**I do not take credit for the Gallagher Girls or the song "Perfect." All rights go to their respective owners.**

* * *

_Hey dad, look at me_

_Think back and talk to me_

_Did I grow up according to plan?_

_And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?_

_But it hurts when you disapprove all along_

- Simple Plan, Perfect

* * *

They sat in the Headmistress's office, each of them avoiding looking at the other. Townsend perused the books lining the back wall while Zach sat on the small couch, reading a leather-bound copy of War & Peace with a thick slash on the front cover. He fingered the fabric pulling away from the binding while his eyes aimlessly scanned over the words, not a single one registering in his mind. Townsend brushed his hand over the titles of the books that he'd read a thousand times. There was a silence enveloping the room. It wasn't an awkward silence, really- more of a tense, agitated void of noise. Both men were walking on eggshells, waiting for _someone_ to say the first word.

Townsend withdrew a thick book from the shelves, plenty of dust coming with it. He coughed, creating the first noise in the room. Glancing over to the boy on the couch, he saw piercing green orbs glaring at him. "_May I help you_?" As soon as he said it, he regretted his word choice.

Zach scoffed, "Going to start after eighteen years? A little late, don't you think?" He returned his gaze to the book in his lap, a scowl gracing his face.

The dusty novel in Townsend's hands was slammed onto the mahogany desk. The man leaned onto the dark wood, already done with teenage attitude. "Zach. I don't know how to express it enough, but _I'm sorry."_

"Really?" Zach laughed, but it wasn't very light-hearted. It was sarcastic and menacing.

"Yes. That woman is terrible, and I would never have dreamt of putting her in charge of any human being, let alone a child."

"Then why did you?" Zach closed the cover of the book with a loud thud and nearly knocked over the table with the sheer force that he used to set it down. The older man flinched, but barely. "_Why _would you think of being with a woman like that, do all sorts of _things _with her, leave, and not check to see if anything 'unusual' came of it." Townsend opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by his son. "_Why _would you be with that woman in the first place?"

"I don't know! I-"

"Newsflash- it's your job to know! You're a goddamn spy and you can't even figure out if you might have left a son in the hands of the devil herself?"

"I'm not perfect, Zach! Though I try my damned hardest to pretend like it, I'm not!"

"Not even close." Zach scoffed as he stood and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" The Brit snapped.

"I don't know. Away?" But, before the teen could open the door, his father's hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned to face him. Though several years younger, Zach's eyes were level with his father's. "Let. Go."

"No." Zach's muscles tightened with anger. "I've missed eighteen years of your life, and I'm not missing another damned second! Now sit down!" His son's bright eyes widened in shock at his father's tone. His brow furrowed, debating whether to consent to the small acknowledgement of their family status or his natural teenage rebellion. Eventually, he tore his shoulder from Edward's grasp, sitting in the swiveling desk chair behind the Headmistress's desk.

Townsend watched his son sit in the chair and lean forward, his elbows on his knees. It shocked him how, in the little time they had known each other, he could spot many of the same mannerisms, habits, and behaviors between them. But there were also some that weren't from Edward. Unfortunately, many were from Catherine_._

Sitting on the couch, the man watched as Zach looked to a picture of Cammie that was sitting on the dark wood. He glanced up to see me staring, and then averted his eyes once more.

Sighing, Townsend said, "You look like me."

Zach's eyes flitted down to his body, then to his father's. "Sure. Except for-"

"The eyes." He nodded. The boy must've heard the comparison countless tiems. "I'm well aware you possess some of your mother's characteristics."

"Characteristics?" The man nodded again, slightly confused by the repetition. Zach raised his eyebrow. "As in more than one?" Townsend's mouth opened to reply, but Zach continued. "What other _despicable_ qualities can you see in me?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"What did you mean then?" Snappily adding, the teen returned to scowling.

"Can we have a normal conversation without it turning into an argument?"

"Most likely not."

Townsend adjusted the stack of books on the table in front of him and huffed, "_Teenagers._" Sitting up straighter, he said, "I wish I was there for you, Zach, I really do. But it's too late to change that, and I'm here now. I wish you could've had a better childhood, because I'm positive yours was rather horrid, and-"

"Did you know my first "toy" was a set of firecrackers? I was four, and she gave me a box of matches and explosives."

Grimacing, his father decided to ignore the comment. "You've grown up sheltered and boxed up. God knows no one ever loved you. I'm not the bad guy, I swear. I'll try to be there for you. But I make no promises." He stood and started walking over to his son. "We're family. We don't have to necessarily be friends yet, but I'd rather not be enemies. Allies?" He extended his had to Zach, who reluctantly took it and shook it.

"Allies." That was the best the two could compromise on. But, the younger boy would accept it. "How does it feel to have a son?"

"You're not what I expected, to be quite frank." Townsend sat back on the couch and leaned back, watching Zach make two revolutions in his chair. When the two were facing each other again, the son's eyebrow was raised.

"What did you expect, then?"

"Well, I assumed that when I'd first hear the words _"your son"_, I thought I'd be handed a bouncing baby boy in diapers, not full-grown, willful teenager who was out to save to world."

"I'm not saving the world. As far as I know, my existence has had nothing positive come of it."

"I have a son now."

Zach snorted. "And you're accepting that as positive now?"

"Yes. We're not perfect, but we'll figure this out. Step by step." Edward paused. "I'll need you to help me. We're in this together, right?"

There was a beat of silence before his short reply: "Right."


End file.
